Sacrificial Lamb
by beautifullyblunt
Summary: It's no accident, him being too far away to save Clove.


The girl with the bright blades and vicious smile is not District 2's version of Delly Cartwright, there's no doubt. She is pretty and deadly, and she earned Cato's respect as a fellow killer long before they were reaped for the Games.

It's not enough to save her, though. Not from him. Maybe he _does _let his anger and his bloodlust get the better of him sometimes, and maybe she _is _better at keeping her temper than he is. Nevertheless, Cato's no fool. He knows that the rule change is a lie. The Capitol does not show mercy, the Capitol does not change its mind. The Capitol just wants a good show, and it will say or do anything to get it.

He wonders if Clove thinks the same. About the rule change.

If she's plotting to kill him, too.

He could end her right now, probably. If she wasn't expecting it. Is she, though? He watches her as she hurls daggers at a tree, searching for clues in her face, in her stance. Clove, however, is a Career through and through, and her very _presence _promises death and pain for all who stand in her way.

In the end, he gives up on trying to read her and decides that it doesn't matter. He knows, the Capitol knows, everyone knows that two victors are not going to be allowed to go home together. He's going to kill her in the end, whether she intends to do the same to him or not. It's just a matter of timing; he won't win any points if he kills Clove before the Capitol decides to 'fess up.

To be honest, he doesn't _want _to destroy Clove. Considering it makes him angry with the Gamemakers, the Games, with _everything. _For the first time, the Games do not seem like such a great privilege. But he's not Lover-Boy. He doesn't do the self-sacrifice thing. One of them has got to die, and he's not about to throw himself onto his sword for the girl with the bright blades and vicious smile. She probably wouldn't thank him for it, anyway. Clove respects one thing: strength. Like a proper citizen of District 2. Love, to her, is a weakness. "Stupid," she'd call him, and leave him to die, after decorating him with a few cuts from her knife for his idiocy.

(Of course, it's not love, this thing that he feels for her. Not at all.)

* * *

The feast is his opportunity.

He lets her have the girl from Twelve without too much of a fight, and heads off to scout around for the big one from Eleven and keep him out of her way while she plays with her new toy. At least, that's what he tells her. In reality, he is putting enough distance between him and her so that when she is attacked no one can say "That one didn't want to share the glory. He left his own district partner to die."

Surely she'll die. Even Clove can't defend herself against the girl with the arrows and the Eleven boy and kill them both, too. Not if she's caught by surprise; and she's expecting him to watch her back, isn't she?

Is she?

_Or are you planning to eliminate me, Clove? Cut me up with those knives of yours and give the Capitol a good show?_

He speeds up, putting more distance between them while pretending to search for Eleven. You never know what the cameras will show...

* * *

Clove is screaming his name. He didn't expect that. He didn't know she knew how to sound scared. And now is the time to return, to play his part as a faithful district partner. "Clove," he calls back, and begins to run. "Clove!" The trees speed by him; soon, he is at the Cornucopia. "Clove," he says. Her pretty face is twisted with pain, the eyes that used to glint in savage triumph dulling. She is not triumphant this time; now she is as good as dead.

For some reason, it hurts.

(Not love, never love.)

He should leave – hunt down Thresh. But the girl with the bright blades and the once-vicious smile is trying to hold out a hand to him, pleading with those dull eyes. And his heart is doing that twisting thing again. So he takes her hand in both of his. "Stay with me," he pleads, which is stupid - he's done all of this to get rid of her, hasn't he?

(Not _love._ Love has no place in the Games.)

He wonders how many of his predecessors have held their district partner's hand as she died.

* * *

**AN:** I chose the title because a sacrificial lamb is, of course, someone killed for the good of many. Cato killed Clove for the Games, and one could argue that he killed her for the 'good' of of the Capitol citizens. Heaven forbid they get _bored._

__About the picture: The words on it are too small to see (oops) but they say 'Born to Die'. I got the image from _odairandhiscresta_ on Tumblr.


End file.
